Spells to Die For

by CC Dragon

  “Nothing?” I asked.

  “Nothing happened. Esme and your aunt are confused but working downstairs,” he said.

  “You explained?”

  He shrugged. “I told them there was a magical break-in. I didn’t tell them that I did an inventory while I sat here. This is a list of the books that weren’t touched. I labeled them with numbers just for easy reference. I don’t know what’s missing, but hopefully, that helps.”

  “It does. Thank. You stayed past your shift. Go home,” I said.

  I took the list and watched him go. I opened the doors and stared, trying to remember how it looked before. He’d left the pen on one of the tables, so I grabbed it and started writing down the missing books based on description. They were old journals and notebooks, so there were no titles or labels.

  Aunt Mandy and Esme came up the stairs as I was finishing up.

  “Who would do that?” Aunt Mandy asked.

  “I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t want me to discover a family secret?” I asked.

  “Brad said it was magical,” Aunt Mandy said.

  “Yes, someone good with invisibility.” I shot a look at Esme.

  “It wasn’t me. I’ve had access to that room plenty of times. If I wanted to get rid of something, I could’ve before. I wouldn’t need to break in or leave a mess,” she replied.

  I looked at my aunt.

  “I wouldn’t leave the secret lying around in a book. It wasn’t in there. Someone probably stole your mother’s book for the spells,” she said.

  “Who would know about it? Who would do that? Now of all times. I can’t believe anyone in the coven would,” I said.

  “Doubtful. It’s more likely someone from the ball. You mentioned your mother a few times,” Esme said.

  “Eavesdropping?” I asked.

  “It’s natural. You met Liz Bellows. Her mother knew your mother. She’s an old friend. But your mother was well-known in those circles. You coming to the ball would bring up memories and conversations. There was a reason we kept you away from that for your childhood,” Esme said.

  “I get that. But, if my mother had enemies, it might help if you tell me about it. Tell me everything before I end up with more than a thief. Mom was into some dark magics. I saw the spells. Do no harm wasn’t something she seemed concerned with,” I said.

  “Sometimes, you have to defend yourself. Knowing those types of spells isn’t wrong,” Aunt Mandy defended.

  “Tell me the secret.” I got in my aunt’s face.

  “I swore to your mother I never would. I can’t,” my aunt whispered with a trembling voice.

  “She’s dead. She’s not here to tell me. Someone has to. We have people breaking in. Your daughters are in danger. The twins don’t have any serious powers. They’re vulnerable. Aren’t they more important than some dumb secret?” I asked.

  “You’re like my daughter.” My aunt grabbed my hand.

  I pulled away. “I’m not. I’m your niece. I appreciate what you did for me, but my parents’ stuff is coming back in my life, and I need to know everything. It’s bad enough to feel foolish and in the dark. But now, it’s dangerous. I assumed I knew the story, but something is missing.”

  “Brad said you wanted to put some extra protection spells on this area. Maybe on the café,” Esme said.

  I nodded and pulled my phone out of my pocket. “We’ll work on it when Bran gets here. I need some independent magic, as well.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Esme snapped.

  “I think three is better than two. Weaving the magic makes it more complicated. Better protection.” My phone beeped, and I read the text. “Bran says the prisoners are still locked up tight. No one he knows of is after me, but he’ll be here shortly to help.”

  “He sounds like a good man,” Aunt Mandy said.

  “Will it be safe to have the coven meeting that’s coming up? I don’t want to put anyone in danger,” I said.

  “They didn’t destroy anything. Maybe it’s an old friend, afraid of what your mother said about her?” Esme asked.

  “There’s no way to know. I’m so sick of what-ifs. I want some answers.” I slapped my phone on the table.

  “You need to calm down. You have a café full of people. I can put a spell on the café that will tint anyone who has wronged you red. Only you and I would be able to see it. That way you could be sure the coven is clean. You’d know who it is,” she said.

  “Red?” I scoffed.

  “That sounds like a good way to find out.” Aunt Mandy nodded.

  “And if someone stole coffee or sugar packets? Won’t they turn red?” I asked.

  “Yes, you’d have a few people to sort through, I’m sure. But you might find out if an employee is stealing from you,” Esme replied.

  “Why don’t I just cast the spell? Then, you’re not in on it,” I said.

  “You can’t. That spell has to be done by a third party or anyone who has gossiped or been rude to you would light up. It has to be filtered for real deliberate damage done or it becomes useless.” Esme folded her arms.

  “I need coffee.” I headed downstairs.

  Ellen served up a large iced coffee with caramel. “You okay?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Family is hard,” I said.

  She nodded. “Your boyfriend is here.”

  I almost corrected Ellen, but apparently, Bran had crossed the line from dating to boyfriend.

  Bran walked in. “Everyone okay?”

  “No one was hurt. Whoever it was slipped in and out while totally invisible. They stole some of my mother’s old books. Had to be someone from the ball. I don’t know why.” I tapped the heel of my boot in annoyance.

  “Okay. You need magical protection around here. You’re a player, now, and some people will try to take advantage. They probably think you’re new and naïve.” He sighed.

  “We’ll fix that. But I want at least three people weaving the protection spells. And Esme is talking about a spell to turn guilty people red. Is it worth it?” I asked.

  Bran nodded. “I’d do it. I’ll help. What’s that smell?”

  I sniffed. “Sage. My aunt must be cleansing the air. I thought maybe they did it—stole books to keep the secret from me, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

  He hugged me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about such a public display. He was reserved most of the time but knew when he needed to do more. I didn’t want to be the girl who called her boyfriend at every bit of a problem or the clingy girl who always needed to be cuddled, but right now, I needed the support.

  “It won’t take too long. We’ll cover the whole building, and the second floor especially. We should probably add more to the basement, as well, in case you get more werewolf guests.” He turned to Ellen. “Can I get a hot chamomile tea?”

  She quickly brewed his beverage, and he sipped it. “Let’s go. We’ll find the thief and figure out the secret. Stress won’t make it happen faster,” he said.

  “I know, but putting it out of my mind is just impossible,” I said.

  He handed me his beverage.

  “I have coffee,” I said.

  “You need to relax a tad. Herbs work for some things. I’m going to banish some evil, first, then we’ll set the protections.” He kissed my cheek and headed up the stairs.

  I followed him and sipped the tea. Losing my temper wouldn’t help, but my magic would be well-fueled. No amount of chamomile would stop the flow of adrenaline, right now.

  I spent two days at my table in the back of the café, watching people like a hawk. Esme had gone ahead with sending the coven meeting info to the new witches. We weren’t going to delay the meeting. Still, I was paranoid. No employees had turned red. So far, only my aunt tinted pink, because she was refusing to tell me the truth.

  The coven meeting might light up some others around me who I thought were friends, but right now, I was bored and frustrated. On the plus side, my customers were loyal. No thieves turned up. Br
an had been texting me regularly to check on my temper and the spells.

  I’d had my coffee for this morning and switched to an iced green tea mixed with lemonade. The twins had been quieter than usual. No doubt my aunt had warned them about my burst of temper.

  The bell rang over the door, and I looked up. Liz Bellows appeared with a woman who had to be her mother, with the same striking red hair and about twenty-five years older. Liz waved to me. I got up and crossed the café.

  “I’m so glad you came, Liz,” I said.

  “I’m glad you meant it. Some of those people are nice at the ball, but the rest of the year, they don’t know your name. This is my mother. Mama, this is Claudia Crestwood, Isabella’s daughter,” Liz said.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bellows,” I said.

  She took my hand. “The power of your mother. The hair is your father.”

  “You knew my father?” I asked.

  She pulled her hand back. “I think I need something to drink. Then, we can chat.” She pointed to the menu board.

  “Of course,” I turned to Ellen. “On the house.”

  I let them order as I dragged another chair to my table. Liz and her mother came to sit with me.

  “This place is so cute.” Mrs. Bellows looked around as she took her seat.

  “Thank you. I’m afraid I’m going to drive you crazy with questions,” I said.

  “I can’t say I have all the answers, but I’ll try.” She nodded.

  I noticed her head shook slightly.

  Liz came over with their drinks. “There you go. I love this shop.”

  “Thanks. At least, now, I’m glad I went to the ball. Not everything since then has been great,” I said.

  “What happened?” Liz asked.

  They hadn’t tinted even a tiny bit pink coming inside, so they weren’t behind this whole mess. “Someone broke in and stole some of my mother’s old notebooks with spells. We had to add in several layers of protection.”

  “No news on the secret, then?” Liz asked.

  I shook my head. “I was hoping maybe Mrs. Bellows might know something.”

  Mrs. Bellows frowned. “Know what? Your mother had her interests. She found weres and vampires fascinating. Did weres retain their humanity when they shifted? Was their human mind still there? Were they simply slaves to their needs, unable to communicate?? Could they control themselves when they were really hungry? Did they know who they were? Were they the same?”

  I noticed some of her questions seemed repetitive. “Did she get the answers?”

  “She died trying. Vampires, she proved could be trusted if they chose not to kill and were provided a suitable source of blood. If they starved—that was different, of course. Honestly, humans will eat dogs, horses or turn cannibal if left without food long enough. Werewolves weren’t the same. Their animal nature took over regardless of their human intentions. She got herself scratched more than once. I’m shocked she was never bit.”

  “Most take the potion or get locked up by family. She cared about them. It wasn’t just dark magic she loved,” I said.

  “No, she liked power. She said you couldn’t fight dark and evil without understanding it. A lot of witches and wizards just want to have power to show off and feel good. But there are bad ones out there, and to fight them off, you have to be able to counter their spells. You need to know what they’ll do.” Mrs. Bellows took a long sip of her coffee. “She could handle herself in a battle.”

  “But she didn’t fight off the werewolf that attacked her?” I asked.

  Mrs. Bellows shrugged. “No one knows those details. Was she trying to reason or communicate with it? Your mother was like that aunt of yours. They didn’t like killing anyone, anything—unless it was life or death. She believed she could get through to the weres. Telepathy. Potions to bark and communicate like a canine. She was a scientist of her own sort.”

  I wasn’t into science, but I did want to keep the peace. For a second, I felt close to my mother, again.

  “What about my father? I don’t remember much about him, at all. Did he help her with all those tests?” I asked.

  “You could say that, yes. I didn’t know him, really. When she got married, she spent less time with her friends. Pretty normal. We both had babies and were busy. I was so sad when I heard she died. Part of me wanted to take you in. No offence, but that aunt of yours just didn’t love magic the same way your mom did. She wasn’t powerful, but you needed a magical mentor, so Esmerelda promised to stick with you.” She patted my hand. “I’m glad she kept her word.”

  “She did.” I nodded.

  “But?” Mrs. Bellows prompted.

  “Nothing. I just know my aunt and Esme are keeping some secret from me, and no one will tell me what it is. I’m not a child, anymore. I realize they wanted to protect me, but not knowing the truth is sickening,” I shared.

  She sipped her coffee.

  “Sarah?” Esme had just entered the café and spotted us.

  Mrs. Bellows turned and smiled. “Esme. Sorry I didn’t make the ball this year.”

  Esme came over and hugged Sarah. “Why don’t we sit on the sofa; it’s softer,” Esme suggested.

  “Let the young ones chat.” Sarah nodded and picked up her coffee.

  I looked at Liz.

  “Sorry, she had a few mini-strokes last year, and they found she’d had a bigger stroke a few years before. Mom does well for a while and then can freeze up and forget my dad’s name or how old I am. They say it might be a touch of dementia, too, but it comes and goes without warning. I try to keep an eye on her. The ball would’ve been overwhelming,” Liz said.

  “Taking care of her must be hard,” I said.

  Liz shook her head. “She’s mobile and positive. She has a few good days, here and there, but I’m sorry she hasn’t remembered anything about a secret. I’ll keep asking every so often. When she’s the most lucid, she might remember. But odds are it’s not a secret to her, so it confuses her.”

  “I’m so confused about my life, and I don’t have any excuses,” I said.

  She smiled. “You do. You were kept in the dark about things. Good or bad, whatever the info is... They’re your parents. You deserve the truth.”

  “I’m so glad someone understands. Most of my family acts like I’m better off not knowing. I can’t believe that. Even if my dad couldn’t protect my mom or he ran for it—whatever. They were people, not perfect superheroes.” I sighed.

  Liz frowned. “Sorry. I get it, of course. My mother was a magical powerhouse. She’s still got it, but she needs more help and someone to keep an eye on her. If she remembers and says something, I’ll let you know. Hopefully, we can be friends, regardless of secrets and history,” she said.

  “That’d be great. Are you sure you don’t want to try one of the pastries?” I asked.

  Chapter Seven

  That night, I’d dodged an obligatory family dinner. Aunt Mandy wasn’t happy, but I couldn’t be nice and talk about nothing with a big looming secret in the middle of the room.

  I sat with the cats on a sofa on the second floor, shooing them off my laptop over and over. I was researching the facts. Two dead in wild dog attack. The news article didn’t name the victims, and my uncle kept us out of the news. Family privacy and all that. Part of me wanted to dig deeper and get the autopsies and police reports, but I wasn’t sure I could stomach that. Not about my parents.

  I searched the Bellows family. Liz was a teacher, like her mother. It was really disturbing how easily it was to find information on people. Her father was a chef at a fancy restaurant. Liz was an only child, as well. It would’ve been nice to be friends growing up. A friend who had to keep the magical secret, as well.

  I searched for more information on wild dog attacks and found sporadic reports over the years. New werewolves were created, didn’t know what they were, and went on the prowl. The gypsies hunted them down, capturing them preferably, and got them on the potion or lockdown. Education about t
heir kind came first, and then, things would calm down a bit.

  Nothing stuck out or gave me a clue to the secret. I was grasping at straws. My phone buzzed, and I hoped it was Bran with info from his aunt.

  It was Brad. Werewolves in the café...

  I snapped the laptop shut and set it aside. The cats climbed on the warm machine as I walked down the stairs. Relief hit me when I recognized one of the werewolves.

  “Harry?” I greeted. “What bring you here?”

  “Hi, Claudia, I need a favor.” He shook my hand and motioned to his companion. “This is Ken. Can we talk here?”

  “Sure. There’s a memory spell on the place that clears the humans of anything confusing or magical. Get something to drink,” I said.

  We ordered, then settled in at my back table. Brad brought over our drinks and nodded that he was keeping an eye on things.

  Ken sniffed the air hard as Brad returned to the counter.

  “Relax,” Harry said to Ken.

  “He doesn’t like vampires?” I asked.

  “That’s what he is?” Ken asked.

  “Newbie?” I asked Harry.

  He nodded. “Ken was bitten and went missing. We work together. He disappeared with no phone call for a few days. I went looking for him, and then, he turned up. I missed the ball over this.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea what happened. Last time I go for an eager one-night stand,” Ken said.

  “You think she’s biting men on purpose?” I asked.

  “No, no nasty details in front of my cousin’s girlfriend.” Harry pointed at Ken.

  “I’ve probably heard worse, Harry,” I said.

  “I’m sure, but I don’t need to piss off the family more. Look, he needs a place to be locked up over the full moon. He wants the potion but wants to make sure it works,” Harry said.

  “You don’t trust my potions?” I folded my arms.

  “No, of course I do. Ken was some boring human before. He doesn’t believe in witches and magic. Can’t hurt to lock him up and use the potion for one full moon to be sure. Do you mind? Do you have room?” Harry asked.